


Say My Name, We Are Shining

by buckysbears (DrZebra)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, Academy Era Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons, Angst, Anniversary, Autistic Character, Bi Fitz, Childhood, Coming Out, Genderfluid Character, Kiss cam, Long-Distance Relationship, Multi, One Shot Collection, Polyamory, Pride Parade, Queer Character, happy pride month guys!!!!!, taking prompts on tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-09 21:19:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11113080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrZebra/pseuds/buckysbears
Summary: pride prompts from tumblr!!





	1. Fitzskimmons

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: queer fitzskimmons 
> 
> taking prompts at my tumblr buckysbears!!

Daisy steps into the med bay hesitantly, hovering in the doorway. She’s glad this new base has more than one bed in the room—otherwise this would’ve been a little awkward.

Fitz and Jemma are on their respective beds, heads tilted toward each other as they speak in low tones. Jemma’s left leg is casted and propped up on some pillows, her left arm in a sling. It’s easy to tell Fitz is still a bit groggy from his surgery to fix his collapsed lung, but he’s looking better than he was a few hours ago (from what Daisy could tell peeking in through the med bay window at least).

Fitz is the first to notice her, frozen by the door.

He smiles. “Took you long enough. We thought you were avoiding us.”

Daisy lets out a nervous chuckle, looking down. “I kinda was.”

“And why’s that?” Jemma asks softly.

Daisy steps forward to set the to-go bag and the cardboard drink holder down on the little table between the beds. “I- um—” She clears her throat, then looks around for a chair. She finds one on the other side of the room, and pulls it over to the middle of the beds, sitting before she continues to speak. “Well, today is one year.”

“One year?” Jemma asks.

Daisy nods, not looking at either of them. “One year since the first date we went on. All three of us.”

“Daisy,” Fitz murmurs. “I’m sorry, with everything that happened, we just didn’t even think about—”

“No, no,” Daisy is quick to interrupt, “that’s fine, I wasn’t expecting you to remember. That’s not why I’ve been avoiding you. I just—” She gives a short sigh, tipping her head to look up at the light panels on the ceiling. “With everything that happened, like you said, I just … got kind of freaked out.”

Both of them wait for her to continue, and for a while she doesn’t. And when she does it’s just to grab at the cup holder, pulling a cup from it and inserting a straw.

“Um, I got some stuff from Dino’s. Like a little anniversary dinner, I guess. Or a ‘hey, you guys didn’t die on that mission’ celebration. Strawberry milkshake for you, Jemma, and—” She pulls a wrapped burger from the bag. “-and a burger. Sorry, Fitz, you just got the shake. Burgers aren’t great after surgery.” She pops Fitz’s chocolate shake out of the container and hands it to him, then hands Jemma hers, making sure the burger is in reach on the table.

Fitz pulls the lid off his shake and gives it an appreciative slurp, but Jemma is just watching her.

Daisy glances over to meet her eyes, then looks away. She takes her own shake and fiddles with the straw, sliding it up and down in the lid.

“Why were you freaked out?” Jemma asks eventually, when it’s obvious Daisy isn’t going to speak.

Fitz stops slurping, chocolate shake coating his upper lip. He licks it off and then sets the shake down on the table, bridging his fingers over his stomach.

Daisy sets her milkshake down as well, suddenly not hungry. “It’s just … It’s been a whole year and … I don’t know. So much has happened. We’ve almost lost each other on more than one occasion—that mission yesterday being one of them. And it’s been so long since I left, and you guys know I’m back for good, but … sometimes it still feels like everything is my fault. Like you would be better off if I wasn’t here.”

“Daisy, we’ve been over this before,” Jemma says, fond and long-suffering. “Our lives are immeasurably better because you’re in them. You bring so much joy and light to our lives. We were lost without you, and we’re not willing to go through that again, not now that we know what it’s like to have you so close to us. And, yes, there is a lot of risk in our lives. But that’s because we’re SHIELD agents, not because of you.”

“And even if it _was_ because of you,” Fitz starts, “which it isn’t, but even if it _was_ : we’d take that risk. Because you’re worth it. Because you mean the world to us, and we’d fight the whole world to keep you with us.”

Daisy smiles, staring down at her lap. She risks a glance up, and Fitz is smiling too, grinning widely. She looks over to Jemma, who’s more subdued, but the love in her eyes is obvious.

Daisy swallows, and picks up her milkshake again, taking a sip through the straw. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember. How much I’m loved.”

“Well, we’ll always be here to remind you,” Jemma says.

“Every day,” Fitz adds.

Daisy sets her shake down again so she can stand, moving to Fitz first. His mouth tastes like chocolate, and she lets her lips linger for a long few moments before she pulls back. She runs her hand through Jemma’s hair before she kisses her, and Jemma pushes back enthusiastically, holding her in place by the back of her neck. Then Daisy settles back into her chair, a dopey smile on her face.

“Happy one year,” she says.

“Happy one year,” the other two echo.

They toast with milkshakes instead of wine glasses, but Daisy wouldn’t have it any other way.


	2. Bi Fitz - Academy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "Fitz tells Jemma he's bi and he's really nervous about it cause he has internalized crap from his dad but it goes fine, academy-era, after they're dating, whenever I just gotta see this scenario"
> 
> tw for mentions of Fitz's dad stuff

“So you’re the young genius I’ve been hearing so much about.”

Fitz jerked his head up as Joseph Guthrie slid in across from him at the table in the boiler room late one Friday night. Jemma watched the situation carefully as Fitz gaped, and then swallowed.

“Um- Well yeah that would be—”

“We haven’t really talked before,” Joseph cut him off, holding out a hand to shake. “I’m Joseph.”

“I know,” Fitz said, quickly moving to shake his hand. “Fitz.”

Of course Fitz knew who Joseph was. Everyone knew who Joseph Guthrie was. He was probably the most popular guy in the SciTech Academy. He was handsome, charming, and built. He easily could’ve gone to Operations, but he had the brains to match his brawn. In high school, he was the quarterback _and_ the captain of the chess team.

Fitz was worried his palm had started to sweat, but Joseph just flashed him a smile. Fitz rubbed his hand on his pants as he pulled away, his fingers tingling from the contact.

“Look, I’ve heard a lot about you, but I’ve never really taken the time to get to know you,” Joseph said. “How about we change that? Tomorrow morning, meet me in the Westside parking lot. There’s this cool exhibit opening up in the science museum near here and I’d love to take you, see what you think of it.”

“Um.” Fitz’s mouth had gone dry. He glanced at Jemma, who just gave him a little nod. “Y-Yeah. Okay. Okay, cool, sure.”

The blinding smile was back. “Perfect. Meet me at ten. I’ll see you there.”

“See you,” Fitz managed as the man walked back to his friends at the bar.

He started as Jemma smacked his arm.

“Well _that_ is cause for celebration. I’m getting another round of drinks.”

Fitz’s nervous expression settled into something calmer, excited. “Yeah. Okay.”

He watched as Jemma made her way up to the bar, stopped for a minute, and then hurried back.

“What happened to drinks?” he asked.

Jemma looked upset, teeth clenched around her bottom lip.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s … He’s not coming,” Jemma said quietly.

“What?”

“Joseph. I heard him at the bar with his friends. He’s not going to show up, it … it was a prank or something.”

Fitz’s face flushed, eyebrows drawing together. “You’re lying,” he gritted out, even though he knew Jemma was telling the truth. Before she could defend herself, Fitz rocketed from his seat and fled the boiler room.

Jemma found him not too far away, sitting against the outside wall of the next building over. He wiped his face as she approached, banishing the few tears that had fallen. He was shaking, only somewhat because he’d left his jacket back at the club.

Jemma sat down next to him, but didn’t speak.

“I liked him,” Fitz mumbled eventually, embarrassed.

“He doesn’t deserve to be liked,” Jemma snapped back, angry on his behalf. “He’s a bad person.”

“No, I- I mean …” Fitz sighed. “I mean I _liked_ him.”

“Oh.” Jemma turned to him, blinking. “Like a crush?”

Fitz nodded, and then buried his face in his arms, which were propped on his knees.

“Well, he still doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you.” Jemma leaned into him slightly. “You know, I didn’t know you were …”

“Bi,” Fitz supplied.

“Bi. You never told me.”

Fitz shrugged, face still hidden.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“’S stupid.”

“You can tell me anyways.”

Fitz finally peeked up at her, then looked away. “When I was nine I had a crush on this boy at school, and I was young and stupid so I told him as much. Well, he didn’t take it well. He and his friends beat me up. When dad found out what had happened, he just … said I deserved it. That I never should’ve told. That those aren’t the sort of feelings a man is supposed to have. I’ve never really told anyone since then.”

“Well that’s complete and utter bollocks.”

Fitz’s head shot up, blinking at her. Jemma just looked angry.

“You’re allowed to have feelings for whomever you want. And no one gets an opinion on that except you. You know how I feel about your dad, but even if I didn’t know about him, I’d know he was dead wrong about this. Fitz, your feelings are yours and yours alone. If you don’t want to share them, you don’t have to, but you should never be afraid that they’re wrong or bad, because they aren’t. They’re wonderful. And they’re allowed to be scary, because I think feelings like that scare just about everyone, but they’re also allowed to be great.”

Fitz watched her, taking in everything she’d said, then looked away, tugging on the fabric of his pants.

Jemma studied him for a moment, then shrugged. “So, Joseph is a jerk. We don’t always pick winners. But you keep trying, and keep letting yourself feel, and eventually you’re going to find someone who thinks you’re just as cool, and funny, and smart as you think they are.”

Fitz rubbed at his nose, which was running in the cold. He nodded. “Thanks, Simmons.”

She smiled. “What are best friends for?”

“So … this isn’t going to change anything?”

“Well, I’ll definitely start teasing you about cute boys as well as the cute girls, but, besides that? No, this doesn’t change anything.”

“Okay,” Fitz said, smiling. “I think I can handle that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still taking pride prompts on my tumblr buckysbears!


	3. Skimmons Pride Parade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "Autistic Jemma goes with gf Daisy to a Pride Parade"

“Oh. There’s- um- a lot of people here.”

Jemma wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. It was DC, of course there would be a lot of people. Of course it would be loud, and chaotic, and noisy, and colorful, and …

“Too many?” Daisy asks, gripping her hand a little tighter.

Jemma huffs a breath through her nose, considering, and then shrugs. They made a special trip out here just for the parade, had to put in a request for a SHIELD van ahead of time and everything. Jemma would hate for them to have to turn back now, just on account of her. She can probably handle it. It’ll be fine.

“If it’s too overwhelming whatsoever, we’ll head back home. No big deal.”

Jemma smiles nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, letting her fingers linger against her neck. “Right. Okay.”

“But—” Daisy drawls out, letting go of Jemma’s hand so she can riffle through her purse. “I did bring some supplies.”

“Supplies?” Jemma asks, peeking into the bag curiously.

“Aha,” Daisy says, pulling out a small box and handing it over.

“Earplugs?”

“For the noise. And—” She pulls out another item, and Jemma takes it.

Jemma smiles, slipping the spinner ring onto her finger.

“For the stims,” Daisy says.

Jemma leans up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Daisy’s lips. “You’re the best.”

Daisy brushes her off with a shrug. “You make it easy.”

Pulling open the lid of the box, Jemma squishes one earplug into a thin tube and inserts it into her ear, then the other. The racket of the parade quiets as they expand to fit her ears.

“So much better,” she says.

“Can you still hear me?” Daisy asks.

Jemma nods, and Daisy nods back.

“Okay, cool. If it’s still too much though, we’re outta here, no questions asked.”

“I think I’ll be okay.”

“Well, if you change your mind, just tell me. But for now—let’s rock this parade, yeah?”

Jemma beams. “Let’s.”

They make their way into the thick of the crowd, and emerge on the edge of the parade. It’s just started, people walking with rainbow flags, then a band comes around the corner playing a song Jemma can only hear mutedly. They watch for a while, waving when people wave at them, cheering when others cheer. They get showered in glitter on more than one occasion, but it’s fine. It’s still a little much for Jemma, but she’s honestly having a good time and doesn’t want to leave.

She starts to get tired after they’re there for almost an hour. She’s about to tell Daisy that she’ll be ready to go soon when Daisy laughs and nudges her. Jemma follows her outstretched finger to a float that’s coming down the road, featuring a small stadium-style screen and a large sign saying ‘Kiss Cam’. Jemma smiles, watching the celebrating couples share kisses on the screen, when she’s abruptly faced with her own grinning face staring back at her.

She blinks, for a second not processing what she’s seeing. But then Daisy turns to her, and takes her hand with a wink.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Daisy says, but almost before she can finish Jemma surges up and catches Daisy’s lips with her own.

Daisy smiles into the kiss, raising one hand to cradle Jemma’s jaw.

Jemma knows that, as secret SHIELD agents, this can probably only be a bad thing, if someone were to snap a picture of the screen, or just of them. But at the moment she doesn’t really care. She just savors the feeling of Daisy’s lips against hers, the pressure and the softness. Lets everything be drowned out but that moment. No more sounds, no more sights. Just her and Daisy, together while they can be.

Eventually, she pulls away, head spinning. She doesn’t need to look to confirm that the kiss cam has already cut away, the float halfway down the street. Daisy has that soft look about her that she reserves for the people she truly loves, and Jemma counts herself among the stars that she gets to be one of them.

“You’re wonderful,” Jemma says.

Daisy bumps Jemma’s nose with her own, grinning. “You make it easy.”

(So maybe they get glitter everywhere once they get back to base, and maybe everyone else complains. But Jemma doesn’t care. Let them gripe. It was worth it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little backlogged on prompts but still taking them! it might be a while before you see yours


	4. Skimmons Long Distance Relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt called for skimmons in a long distance relationship

“Do you want to watch Street Fighter with me?” Trip asks, sprawled on the couch.

Daisy sets her keys down on the shelf by the door, then drops her backpack to the floor. The movie is already playing on their small TV screen, in their small apartment’s small living room. Daisy lets her eyes linger on the screen for a moment, caught by the impression that one of the actresses looks achingly familiar, though she can’t place from where.

“Um, I gotta—” Daisy hooks a thumb over her shoulder, pointing at the wall that separates the living room from her room.

Trip looks disappointed. “We can heckle it,” he attempts.

Daisy smiles. “While that sounds very appealing—”

“You’re gonna go call your girlfriend, aren’t you?”

Daisy nods. “Gonna go call my girlfriend.”

Trip gives a lengthy sigh, then waves her away. “Alright, ya lovebird. Go make kissy faces at your phone.”

She flips him a middle finger, but there’s no real malice behind it. He only laughs, and goes back to his movie.

Daisy makes her way into her room, quickly changes into her pajamas, and flops onto the bed. She plugs her phone into the wall charger, and then pulls up her contacts. Jemma’s name tops the list, a star next to it. Daisy clicks the name, then clicks the video call. The phone rings for only a few moments before Jemma picks up.

“You’re late,” Jemma says teasingly.

“Sorry, your majesty,” Daisy drawls. “My sad student ass had to drag herself to the library after class.”

“You’re already taking night classes,” Jemma says, brows drawn, “you shouldn’t have to study afterwards as well.”

“Work never sleeps.”

“I recognize that you’re quoting me back at me, but it’s not going to work in your favor right now.”

Daisy smiles, wiggling around to get more comfortable on the bed. “Well, I tried.”

There’s still natural light coming through the curtains in Jemma’s room, though it’s dark outside for Daisy. That’s what they get for living on opposite coasts—Jemma all the way in California getting a third graduate degree at Stanford, Daisy still in her sophomore year at Georgetown.

Daisy yawns, eyes closing briefly.

“You look tired,” Jemma says.

Daisy hums and opens her eyes. “I am.”

“You should go to sleep.”

“No,” Daisy whines. “I want to talk to you.”

“Isn’t it almost 11?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s late. And you’ve got work tomorrow.”

 “I know, I know.” Daisy sighs, rubbing her face. “I just … I miss you.”

Jemma gives her a soft smile, playing with the curls of hair that have fallen over her shoulder. “I’m here. Whenever you need me.”

“But you’re not _here_.”

Jemma’s smile turns sad. “I know. But I’ll always be there _for you_. You know that, right? And we’ll always have this. That’ll have to be enough, for now. Until we can be closer.”

“I know,” Daisy says, her mouth quirking into something that’s not quite a smile, not quite a grimace. “And you’re sure Fitz hasn’t invented teleportation yet? You’re not holding out on me?”

Jemma laughs. “No, I’m not holding out on you.”

“Damn.”

“Although I’m not sure I’d want either of us going through a teleport, anyway. Depends on the logistics of it. A wormhole, maybe. But a teleport? I suppose it depends on what sort of physical or mental continuity you believe in, whether you’d actually survive it.”

Daisy closes her eyes. “Good. Talk science to me.” There’s silence on the other end, and eventually Daisy blinks her eyes back open.

Jemma is staring at her with a soft expression. “Go to sleep, Daisy,” she says. “You’re exhausted.”

“Don’t wanna,” Daisy says plaintively.

Jemma narrows her eyes, then shoots a look around her room, thinking. “Alright—compromise. I need to edit my research proposal, so how about I stay on the line and go over it out loud, and you listen until you fall asleep?”

Daisy purses her lips. “That sounds agreeable.”

Jemma beams. “Excellent.”

Jemma gets up to fetch some papers, then comes back and pulls her hair into a ponytail at the back of her head. She starts reading as Daisy buries herself in her comforter, propping the phone against a pillow to keep it upright. She listens to Jemma read, her eyes growing heavy, her mind foggy, not really understanding the words (not that she would had she been more awake). She fights to keep her eyes open, but it’s seeming like a losing battle.

Eventually, Jemma glances at her phone. “Daisy,” she gripes fondly, “you have to actually close your eyes for this to work.”

“Wanna look at you,” Daisy mumbles groggily.

Jemma tries to keep the grin off her face, but she’s not very good at it. “You’re so sappy tonight.”

“’M always sappy.”

“True. I’m not going to keep reading, though, unless you close your eyes.”

Daisy gives her best attempt at a glare, but gives in. Jemma’s voice flows over her, and it’s not long before Daisy is asleep.


	5. Baby Bi Fitz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from the prompt: "omg please write something about a little 9 year old (or whatever age) Fitz having a crush on a boy that DOESN'T end badly. not sure how one would approach that but I wanna see it. or OR just the first time realizing that he likes guys AND girls as a little kid. I guess if he was comfortable enough to say he was bi to Jemma by academy age he would have figured this all out for himself fairly early."

“Mum?”

Eleanore Fitz started as her son spoke. He’d been speaking fairly regularly for almost a year now, since just past his 6th birthday, but it still surprised her every time. She secretly thought that he might clam up again one day, so she treasured every conversation she got to have with him (even if most of them were about monkeys—which she didn’t mind nearly as much as Alistair). But, he’d speak if he wanted to. And just then it seemed he wanted to.

“Yes, Leo?”

Leo was looking down at the sidewalk as they walked home from his school. She always reminded him to walk with his head up, so he could see cars coming, but he never did.

“What’s a crush?”

“A crush is when you like someone as different than friends.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you can like people in different ways. You can like people as friends. Or like people as family. You can respect-like people, like your teachers. And you can like people in a romantic way. That’s called a crush.”

“Like you and da?”

“Well, when you know someone well enough, a crush can turn into love. It evolves like that. I love your father, but I used to have a crush on him, when I was first getting to know him.”

Leo seemed to consider that, his hands twisting up in the bottom of his shirt, which he hated to keep tucked.

“What’s got you wondering about that, Leo?”

“Some girls at school.”

Eleanore grinned. “Oh, do you have a crush on one of them, then?”

Leo shook his head, but didn’t respond.

Eleanore’s grin faded. “They weren’t teasing you, were they?”

Slowly, Leo nodded. “But I … I think they were wrong.”

“Teasing is always wrong.”

“No, I mean- About what they said.”

“And what was that?”

“That I have a crush. But it- it doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?”

“Well … Rosa has a crush on John, she said, and Susie has a crush on Max. And you had a crush on da. And on TV it’s the same.”

Eleanore wasn’t following. “What’s the same?”

“It’s different.”

“I thought you said it was the same, Leo.”

Leo growled under his breath. “No, no. _They’re_ different. Rosa’s a girl and John’s a boy, and you and da …”

“What are you getting at, love?”

“Well I … I can’t have a crush if it’s on another boy. We’re supposed to be different, that’s how it works.”

“Well—” Already she could hear the lecture that Alistair would give her about this. Of course, he wouldn’t lecture her if she never told him. “Not always.”

Leo’s head popped up, the first time she’d seen his face since they left the school. He looked up at her hopefully. “Really?”

“Sure.” She nodded. “It doesn’t happen as often that way. Usually people have crushes on people of the opposite gender. But not always. Sometimes people like people the same as them.”

Leo stared up at her, eyes scanning her face, and then nodded, and looked away. “Rosa said I have a crush on Darren.”

“Well, Darren is a cute boy. Polite, too. I don’t blame you.”

The tips of Leo’s ears had gone red. “He asked me to be his partner for our art assignment today. Rosa said I blushed.”

Eleanore snickered, tugging on Leo’s ear with the tips of two fingers. “You’re blushing right now.”

Leo ducked away from her touch, but let out a little laugh, so she counted it as a win.

“Is … Is it bad if I do have a crush on him?”

“No, Leo, that’s not bad.”

“The girls said it was bad.”

“Don’t listen to them. They’re just being mean.”

“Okay.” Leo’s fingers flickered at his sides. “Do I have to do anything about it?”

“I think you’re a little young for a relationship, don’t you?”

He sighed, sounding relieved. “Yeah.”

“You just enjoy it, and don’t listen to anyone else.”

“Mum?”

“Yes?”

Leo stopped, and Eleanore stopped beside him. After a moment of deliberation he lifted his arms, fingers reaching out for her.

With a laugh she stooped and scooped him up, settling him on her hip with a grunt. He clung to her blouse, propping his chin on her shoulder.

“You’re getting too big for this, Leo.”

“Not yet, though.”

“That’s right. Not yet. Right now you’re still just my little boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so when is mama fitz gonna be on the show ammirite


	6. Autism and Gender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "educational pride fic for the masses: autistic fitzsimmons having a fun discussion about how autistic people are more likely to be lgbtq" 
> 
> focusing mostly on gender in this one cause thats what i know most about!

“But what about, let’s say, communication disorders?” Jemma shoots back, hands gesturing. “Something like expressive language disorder could be considered a developmental disability, but I don’t think you’d have the same effect. So why ADHD?”

“I heard my name?” Daisy jokes, walking into the common room with hair still dripping from her shower. Jemma and Fitz smile at her as she plops down into the chair across from them. “You guys were talking about ADHD?”

“Developmental disabilities in general,” Fitz informs her.  

Daisy nods, lips pursed, and rings out her hair, water dripping onto the carpet.

“But, Jemma,” Fitz starts, turning back, “I’d argue that people with those disabilities are more likely to be autistic, which means the effect would be the same.”

“But then it would be the autism, not the other disabilities.”

Daisy holds a hand up above her head, but the other two don’t notice.

“Can you separate them?”

“I’d argue in this case you can, if we’re looking at the statistics of it.”

Daisy clears her throat, and the two on the couch look over to her.

Jemma smiles a bit. “Yes, Daisy?”

“What are we talking about?”

“Whether all people with developmental disabilities are more likely to be queer, or mainly autistic people.”

Daisy’s brows furrow. “Autistic people are more likely to be queer?”

Fitz nods. “When it comes to gender identity, yeah. Like, take us for instance. I’m trans and Jemma’s nonbinary. That’s two for three of the autistic people in your life.”

“And to be fair,” Jemma adds, “we haven’t actually asked Coulson.”

“Huh.” Daisy nods. “I hadn’t actually thought of that. What do you think causes it?”

“Well, autistic people are—” Fitz laughs. “-notoriously bad at understanding allistic social dynamics.”

“And gender is just another social dynamic,” Jemma explains. “Gender is cultural and performative. It makes sense that autistic people would fall outside society’s expectations for that most of the time, as we do with a lot of other things.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” Daisy says. “Have there been studies about this?”

“There have been a few,” Jemma said. “All fairly small.”

“There was one in- um—” Fitz snaps his fingers. “2014. It found that autistic people were about seven and a half times more likely to be gender variant than the general population.”

“But it was six and a half times more likely in those with ADHD, which is what sparked this conversation,” Jemma says.

“I wouldn’t have expected that,” Daisy says.

“Do you have any theories?” Fitz asks.

Daisy takes a moment to think about it, then shrugs. “I mean, I guess it’s just because our brains are wired differently? And gender, presumably, is based in the brain. I guess it makes sense.” 

“We’re hoping there’ll be more studies about it in the future,” Jemma says.

Fitz nods. “Especially considering the nonbinary aspect, which hasn’t been studied a lot.”

“And that one study was based on reports from parents about their children, so I’m sure the number is even higher if it was a self-report from adults.”

“Do you guys have access to that study?” Daisy asks.

The other two nod, so Daisy stands, plucks a tablet from the coffee table, tosses it in Fitz’s lap, and then plops herself on the couch between them. She tucks her toes beneath Fitz’s thigh and leans back onto Jemma’s lap.

“Read it to me?” she asks, wiggling her toes.

Fitz laughs, and begins pulling it up on the tablet. Jemma strokes her hands through Daisy’s hair as Daisy closes her eyes to listen.

Fitz clears his throat, then starts, “Gender variance in children and adolescents is an area of increased inquiry by both clinicians and researchers …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this is the article](https://link.springer.com/epdf/10.1007/s10508-014-0285-3?shared_access_token=Pv7WB-U0SQE9XFxPZ6Srhfe4RwlQNchNByi7wbcMAY7tq0teQda-2kyJjoQaqUh_Uvq_3mwiOt493v0NzWsmN8fQxUP8K_8T_Hdx2_nNAk9I3WM2lTpLKHEYHcNcW8cR3HwODBgR_U0LEVAqgWqEeajiNuo65U_zda4BVm53tFI=) theyre referencing if anyone was interested :)


	7. Fitzsimmorse Security Guard AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two people prompted fitzsimmorse! felt good writing this ship again

“Stop what you’re doing and turn around slowly.”

The security guard’s voice is loud in the emptiness of the lab. Fitz and Jemma both jump, though it’s not like they weren’t expecting it. When one breaks into a highly secure lab at three in the morning, one is likely to find guards. Even if they did get in without tripping any of the alarms.

The two of them turn, nervous smiles on their faces, squinting in the harsh light of the guard’s flashlight.

After a moment, the gun pointed at them drops. Then there’s a sigh.

“Is there a reason you two are breaking into your own lab in the middle of the night?”

Fitz and Jemma share a quick look.

“She left her purse—” Fitz says, at the same time Jemma responds, “Getting supplies.”

The guard sighs again, then waggles a finger. “Come with me.”

The two of them don’t move.

“I said come. Now.”

Hesitantly, they follow the guard out of the lab and down the hall. They walk in silence until they get to the conference rooms. The guard stops in between two doors, and motions Fitz into one, and Jemma into the other.

“I trust you’ll stay put until I come back?”

Jemma nods abashedly, and they both make their way into the conference rooms opposite each other. The guard stands in the middle, watching both of them, before heading back the way the three of them had come.

-

Jemma raps her nails against the wooden table as she waits for the guard to come back. She’s nervous, she’ll admit. She’s never really done anything like this before. And, okay, sure. Maybe it was her idea. Maybe this was all her plan. But it doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a right to be nervous. It doesn’t mean she can’t be scared out of her mind.

She jolts as the door opens, and the guard sits down at the table across from her, silent for a moment before speaking.

“I made some calls,” the guard says. “Which, given the hour, doesn’t make me the most popular person in the world. But I found out that the two of you don’t have access to this floor after hours. Mind explaining why you’re here?”

“Officer Morse—”

“It’s just Ms. Morse,” the guard corrects. “I’m not an officer anymore, you know that.”

“Right.” Jemma clears her throat, tucks a short strand of hair behind her ear. The guard had retired from the police force a few months back, after an injury. Still, she carries herself like an officer, speaks like an officer. Sometimes Jemma forgets the difference.

“Again,” Ms. Morse says. “Why are you here?”

“I can’t say,” Jemma says, eyes nervously trailing Ms. Morse’s face.

“And why’s that?”

“I’m not a very good liar.”

Ms. Morse purses her lips, considering that. “How about the truth, then?”

Slowly, Jemma shakes her head. “I can’t say that, either.”

“And why not?”

Jemma doesn’t respond. They sit in silence, Jemma wringing her hands under the table, Mr. Morse staring her down. Eventually, the guard nods, and pushes her seat back.

“Well, how about I give you a little time to think about it while I have a chat with Mr. Fitz?”

Jemma blows out a nervous breath, and nods, eyes lingering as Mr. Morse leaves the room.

-

“Your partner said that she can’t tell me what you two are doing here in the middle of the night.”

“That’s an odd word choice.”

Ms. Morse’s face doesn’t change. “What’s that?”

“’Partner’.”

Ms. Morse leans back in her seat, watching Fitz carefully. “Were you and Ms. Simmons not here to commit a crime? Even the act of breaking and entering makes this criminal activity. I think the term ‘partner’ applies here just fine.”

“Wasn’t ‘breaking and entering’,” Fitz mutters. “Didn’t break anything. It’s just entering.”

“Trespassing on private property, then.”

“It’s our lab.”

“You work here, there’s a difference.”

Fitz sniffs, and shrugs. Ms. Morse studies him.

“You want to tell me why you’re here?”

Fitz stares down at the table. “Just getting supplies, like Jem said.”

“For?”

“An experiment.”

Ms. Morse doesn’t respond, just keeps watching him, and Fitz glances up nervously, then away, and continues.

“We just needed some beakers and things. We were going to return them tomorrow.”

Ms. Morse smiles, unkindly. “Didn’t you say earlier that Ms. Simmons had forgotten her purse?”

Fitz blinks. “Um. Yeah. Yeah, she also forgot her purse. We were getting them at the same time.”

“That’s funny, because I checked the lab earlier, and I didn’t see any purses lying around.”

“Oh.” Fitz raises a hand to scratch at his neck.

“So—” She leans forward. “-how about the truth?”

Fitz gulps, looks up at her, then away. “It …”

“Yes?”

“It wasn’t my bloody plan,” he mutters, then sits back, crossing his arms. “Wasn’t my bloody plan, so she should be the one to tell you.”

Ms. Morse almost sighs in frustration, but doesn’t. Instead, she pats the table, then stands.

“If she doesn’t talk, I’m keeping you both in holding for the rest of the night. We’ll see if the higher ups want to press charges.”

Fitz buries his head in his hands as she leaves the room.

-

“Your partner said this was your plan?” Ms. Morse says as she enters the room and sits down across from Jemma.

Jemma’s lips pull into a nervous grin. “Did he- um- happen to mention what the plan was?”

“No, he said that was up to you.”

“Right.” Jemma looks down. “That’s … That’s fair.”

“So.” Mr. Morse laces her fingers on the table. “Have you had time to think through what you want to say?”

Jemma doesn’t look up. “It’s a silly plan, really. I don’t know why I even thought of it.”

Ms. Morse waits for her to continue.

Jemma babbles on, “It’s not like me, really, thinking up something like this. I never do things like this. I like following the rules. It’s just … Well, we didn’t have any other choice, really.”

“No other choice in what?”

Jemma peers up at her. “We didn’t know how else to reach you.”

Ms. Morse’s brows furrow. “What?”

“Yes, well, you switched over to working nights a few weeks ago, so we don’t see you anymore during the day. And we don’t have your number. To get it we’d have to hack into the company’s personnel files, and that seemed like an invasion of privacy, considering they keep medical records and things in there as well. We- _I_ \- just thought—foolishly perhaps—that this would be the easiest way.”

Ms. Morse stares at her, face screwed up in confusion.

“I just- That is—” Jemma huffs a sigh, then knocks her shoulders back. “Ms. Morse,” she says in the most confident voice she can manage. “Would you like to go to dinner sometime?”

Ms. Morse continues staring, and then looks away, mouth popping open but no words emerging. Her mouth draws back closed and into a thin line, then open again. Her hand rises and drops.

“What?” she says.

“Would you like to go to dinner?” Jemma repeats. “Like a date.”

“A date.”

Jemma nods.

“Are-Aren’t you and Mr. Fitz together?”

“Well … yes.” Jemma clears her throat, and pushes back her hair again. “We were actually both asking.”

Ms. Morse opens her mouth to speak, and instead gets up and leaves the room.

-

“So, let me get this straight.”

Fitz darts back into his chair as Ms. Morse bangs into the room.

“The two of you broke into a highly secure lab, in the middle of the night, risking possibly getting fired, and got yourselves interrogated, just so that you could ask me on a date?”

Fitz huffs out a careful laugh. “Not the best plan, is it?”

Ms. Morse rests her fists on her hips, and then begins pacing.

“’Not the best’- ‘Not the best plan’? It’s a stupid plan, that’s what it is. It’s idiotic. It’s the worst plan ever.”

Fitz chews on his lower lip, nodding. “So … is that a ‘no’?”

Ms. Morse stops short, looking at him. “What?”

“To the date?” Fitz says carefully.

Ms. Morse gapes for a moment, then keeps pacing. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“That’s fair.”

“I mean what- what kind of person would even pull something like this? I thought you two were supposed to be smart. This is just ridiculous.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Dinner is in the morning for me.”

“What?”

Ms. Morse stops. “Dinner. I work the graveyard shift, so I get up around 6pm. Dinner is my breakfast.”

Fitz blinks at her. “Okay.”

“So I’d want to go somewhere that serves breakfast.”

“Right,” Fitz says slowly. “Sure.”

“Pat’s Diner has pancakes, and they’re open all night.”

Fitz tries not to gape. “The one on Third Avenue?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry- um … You’re saying yes?”

Ms. Morse raises her arms in a shrug, then drops them. “Apparently.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“I mean the plan was terrible, and you two are terrible for concocting it, but it’s also the sweetest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“That’s … That’s a good thing, right?”

Ms. Morse’s head tilts. “I guess.”

Fitz tries to stifle his grin. “What about Friday?”

Ms. Morse seems like she’s already regretting it. “Friday. Sure.”

“Seven o’clock?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

Fitz starts to stand, then stops. He points at the door. “So are we …?”

Ms. Morse sighs, and rubs her forehead. “Yeah, you’re free to go. I’ll just … tell my boss that Ms. Simmons forgot her purse, and that’s why you were here.”

“Thank you, Ms. Morse.”

“Bobbi,” she corrects.

Fitz smiles. “Bobbi.”

Bobbi stays in the room as Fitz exits to collect Jemma. She’s not sure if what she’s feeling is regret or excitement when she hears a loud laugh and then a high-five.

She tries not to sigh. “What did I just get myself into?”


	8. s3 Skimmorse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt was: "ESTABLISHED SKIMMORSE BUT IT'S JUST DAISYBOBBI DURING THE HIATUS WHEN THE SPACE ROCK ATE JEM" 
> 
> this one is pretty angsty. cw for perceived character death

Daisy slams into the bedroom without really seeing where she’s going, working to get her tac suit off before the door even shuts behind her. She’s tired, she’s frustrated, and she just wants the day to be over. Or at least to be in bed.

Bobbi peers at Daisy over her glasses, propped up in their shared bed and reading reports. She has even more reports to read now that she’s working in the lab. And she’s glad for it, she’s glad to be working again. Glad to be doing something besides laying in the med bay all day. Even if it does mean lots and lots of reports.

She watches Daisy, who’s not facing her, growling and swearing as she can’t rip her arm free of the harsh fabric.

“Babe,” Bobbi says softly, trying not to startle her.

Daisy is startled anyway. She whips around, eyes wide, and stares.

Bobbi smiles a little. “You’re never going to get out of that thing if you keep trying to go that fast.”

Daisy swallows and nods a little, looking away.

After a moment, Bobbi grabs her crutch (which she doesn’t need all the time anymore, but it’s been a long day), heaves herself up, and makes her way over to Daisy. She props the crutch under her arm as she starts helping Daisy undo the zippers and clips on the suit.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

Daisy shrugs.

Bobbi flicks her side. “You know you’re gonna tell me eventually. I’ll keep hounding you. I’m good at it.”

“Fitz is back,” Daisy says quietly, finally managing to pull her arm free.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re upset because—”

“Because he shouldn’t still be going out there!” Daisy says, voice raised. She pulls away from Bobbi, the top of the tac suit draped around her waist. There are some new bruises on her arms, Bobbi notices, that weren’t there when she left for her mission earlier that day. “He had no backup—again. No real plan—again. He’s pretty roughed up—again. He’s gonna get himself killed.”

“I know. I know, and I hate it too. But he’s an adult, Daisy. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Coulson could! Coulson could stop him right now if he wanted to.”

Bobbi shakes her head. “Fitz would just quit. At least this way we can keep an eye on him.”

Daisy growls in frustration, because this is a conversation they’ve had before, and it never goes the way Daisy wants it to. She turns away, raising her arms to press the balls of her hands against her forehead, trying to rub the tension away. “Why can’t he just … Why can’t he just accept it?”

Bobbi is silent, tightening her grasp on the crutch’s grip.

“She’s _gone_ , Bob.” Daisy drops her hands, and when she turns back there are tears pooling along her eyelids. “It’s been four months. Four. Months. She’s gone. She’s not coming back.”

Bobbi bites her tongue, and nods. “He thinks she might.”

“Well it’s _stupid_ ,” Daisy cries, barely contained anguish. “It’s stupid and _he’s_ stupid and selfish and- and- and—” Her chin trembles. “I _hate him._ ”

“Daisy—”

“No, I do,” Daisy swears, two fat tears dropping down her face. “I hate him for doing this to us.”

Bobbi’s brow pinches, and she mindfully smooths it out. “He just needs closure.”

“We all do,” Daisy snaps. “We haven’t told her parents. We haven’t had a funeral. It’s been four months, and she doesn’t even have a headstone. Our girlfriend is dead, Bobbi, and he won’t let her die.”

“He’s just …” Bobbi sighs. “He’s not ready to move on.”

Daisy’s brows furrow, looking at Bobbi in open-mouthed anger. “Do you think I am?”

“No,” Bobbi says quickly, “that’s not what I meant.”

“Do you think I am, in any conceivable fashion, ready to _move on_ from this? From her?”

Bobbi pinches her lips together. “You know that’s not what I was implying.”

Daisy’s face falls into a more neutral expression, seeming to agree, then screws up again. “He just … He needs to accept it. None of us are going to be able to start healing unless he stops doing this.”

Bobbi tries to speak as gently as she can, but without sounding patronizing, which is always a hard balance to strike with Daisy. “Are you really mad at Fitz here?” she asks, voice soft.

“Yes!” Daisy immediately responds, throwing her hands up. “And- And … I don’t know.” She growls, bringing her hands up to her forehead again. “I’m mad at all of it! Everything that’s happened! I’m mad at him, I’m mad that stupid rock, I’m mad at the fucking _universe_ , okay? I’m just so angry at _everything_ now, and I don’t know if I’ve always been this angry inside or if I’m just … broken now, or something. Maybe …” Her voice drops. “Maybe this just broke me.”

“Daisy,” Bobbi says, reaching out a hand to place on Daisy’s elbow, a gentle caress, an invitation, “you’re not broken.”

Daisy wipes her cheeks, and then drops her arms. More tears stream down her face. “Maybe I am. Maybe we all are.” She gazes up at Bobbi, mouth quivering. “What if we’re not okay after this?”

“Who?” Bobbi asks. “Us?”

“You and me. Everyone. I don’t know.”

“Well—” Bobbi touches her again, beckoning her closer. “I know one thing. You and I are going to be okay. Worse for wear, but okay.”

Daisy takes the invitation and shuffles closer, dropping her head to rest on Bobbi’s collarbone. She shivers against Bobbi’s chest, both from the conversation and the goosebumps that have risen on her bare arms from the cold. “How can you be sure?” she asks.

“Because we’ve made it this far.”

Daisy sniffles and nods, pushing closer. Bobbi holds her for a while, one arm wrapped around her shoulders, and eventually they get Daisy out of the rest of the tac suit and into bed. Daisy has started crying again in the meantime, and Bobbi doesn’t know what else to do besides pull her closer.

Daisy’s breath hiccups, tears soaking through the fabric on Bobbi’s chest. “Are we ever going to be okay?” she asks in a hush.

“One day.”

“Are we ever going to stop missing her?”

“No,” Bobbi says honestly.

“Then I don’t think I’m ever going to be okay.”

Bobbi lets out a sigh. “When you lose someone … part of you never really moves on. You never forget that hurt. It’s just … something you live with.”

“How?” Daisy asks.

Bobbi presses a kiss to the top of her head. “By not forgetting the people you still have.”

Daisy only clings harder.


	9. Genderfluid Daisy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "Fitzskimmons + one of them discovers their new gender identity in their late-twenties/early thirties. The other two are sweet and supportive, try to get educated, share clothes with them, take them shopping, shower them with love, etc?"

Daisy paces back and forth from one corner of the room to the other, Fitz and Jemma watching from the bed. They’re growing nervous, because Daisy looks nervous, and if Daisy looks nervous then the coming conversation is likely to be bad.

After too long of watching Daisy pace, Jemma speaks up. “Daisy, you’re scaring us.”

“Is this …” Fitz glances between them, worrying his bottom lip between his fingers. “Is this a breakup speech?”

“No,” Daisy quickly reassures them, shaking her head. And then, “Oh god, I hope not. I mean- No, no, it isn’t.”

Fitz and Jemma share a glance.

“Whatever it is—”

“We’ll handle it.”

Daisy nods, swallowing hard, and then stops at the foot of the bed, not really looking at them. “Okay, so … Here’s the thing. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. Like, some deeply introspective shit. And I’ve been doing a lot of research. And after thinking really hard about it for a long time I think I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m, uh—” Daisy’s throat clears. “I’m genderfluid.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Fitz asks, quietly, cautiously, “What does that mean?”

“It’s … Well, okay, you guys know me as a girl, right? And sometimes that’s exactly what I am. I feel like a girl, I like being feminine and I want to dress like it, and I’m proud of being a girl. But sometimes I get this feeling that it’s taken me a really long time to pin down. And I think that’s …” Daisy’s hands motion. “-that sometimes I feel a lot more masculine. I feel more like a boy. It’s not all the time, and it’s not consistent. Some days I just wake up and wish I could be treated as a boy that day. And I never really understood that until I found the term ‘genderfluid’. There’s also this term—‘gender euphoria’. I never really felt the dysphoria thing. I’ve always been comfortable in my body. But ‘gender euphoria’ means an intense happiness you get when being treated as the gender you feel. And … on those days, when I think about how I could be treated, that makes me really happy.”

“So right now …” Jemma starts.

“Today is a boy day. Which is what … really cemented it, I guess. That this was real, and really something I feel. And why I’m telling you guys today.”

Jemma nods, thinking. “What pronouns would we be using, then?”

“Today’s a boy day,” Fitz chimes in, “would it be he/him today?”

Daisy blinks at them, mouth bobbing open for a moment. “So you guys are … totally okay with this?”

“Of course,” Jemma says. “I mean, obviously we’ll need to do a lot more research—”

“And we’ll have questions,” Fitz says.

“-but that thing you said—gender euphoria. If we can help you feel that, Daisy, we will.”

Daisy nods, chin quivering just a bit. “Thanks. I- Yeah, thanks. I knew you guys would be cool, I was just … I don’t know. I’ve never told anyone, and I was nervous, but—” Daisy’s head shakes. “Um, but, yeah. He/him today would be great. If you ever don’t know, then they/them is fine in the meantime.

“Should we still call you Daisy, then,” Fitz asks, “or something else?”

Daisy thinks, then shrugs. “I’m actually not sure about that one yet,” he says. “I like the name Daisy. I think I’ll go with that for now, no matter what I’m feeling. I might try out just going by Johnson in general though.”

“Just let us know what you decide, and we’ll use that,” Jemma says. Then her face lights up. “Oh, we should go shopping!”

Fitz lets out a loud groan. “Ugh, why?”

Jemma gives his arm a light smack. “To get more masculine clothes for Daisy, obviously.” Jemma glances over. “If he wants them.”

Daisy grins. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“It’s settled, then.” Jemma raises her fist, coughing into it delicately. “Ugh, I do believe I’m coming down with something. Seems both of you have the same thing as well. We’re all terribly sick, we should take the rest of the day off work.”

“And hit the mall?” Daisy asks, the grin having not left his face.

“Coulson is going to know if we take one of the cars,” Fitz points out.

“Yeah,” Daisy says, “but he won’t be able to do anything about it until after we get back.”

Fitz thinks about it for a moment, looking at Daisy’s slacks and tank top. “Well, you’ll be cold at the mall with just an undershirt. You can borrow one of my shirts if you want.”

Daisy nods, bounding over to the closet. “That would be great.”

He picks out a button up, putting it on and then rolling the sleeves up. There’s a small smile on his face as he inspects himself in the mirror, the kind of smile that means you’re biting down on one that’s bigger.

Jemma walks up behind him, slipping her arms around his middle.

“Daisy,” she says, and Daisy meets her eyes in the mirror. “Sometimes you’re my amazing girlfriend. And now sometimes you’ll be my amazing boyfriend. But no matter what, you’re our partner. And we’re going to support you no matter what, okay?”

Daisy swallows, looking down and then meeting her eyes once again. “I know.”

Fitz sighs. “Alright, you bloody saps,” he says, but he’s smiling, “let’s get this over with.” He points at Daisy. “And just because I’m a boy more often doesn’t mean I know where to shop for boy clothes, so get that out of your head right now.”

Daisy laughs. “Alright, will do. We’ll just leave that to Jemma.”

“I _am_ usually the one who picks out Fitz’s clothes,” Jemma says, snickering. “I’m sure you’ll be much more helpful.”

“Hey,” Fitz protests.

“What? It’s true.”

They bicker out the door of the bedroom, down the hall, and all the way until they’re in the car ready to go. Daisy doesn’t stop smiling the whole time.


	10. Academy Jemma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt was: "jemma + making out w/ a girl for the first time!!" 
> 
> takes place in academy era

Jemma’s frozen. She hasn’t even closed her eyes, which she knows is like the first rule of kissing. Step one, lean in. Step two, close your eyes. Step three, kiss. Sometimes the closing of the eyes comes even before the ‘leaning in’ bit, if you have good enough aim. And it’s not like she hasn’t done this before. She’s kissed people before, of course she has. She wasn’t raised in a cellar. She had her first kiss when she was 14 years old. And okay, granted, it had been part of a prank. But it still counted.

So, yes, she’s done the kissing thing before. Just … not with a girl. And not like this.

Sammi pulls back, taking in Jemma’s wide eyes, slack mouth. She scratches the back of her neck, running her fingers up into her short-cropped hair, looking as nervous and abashed as Jemma’s ever seen her. “I …” She looks away. “I’m sorry, I misread something, I’ll just—”

“No!” Jemma says, almost yells, now that she’s gotten her voice back, gotten over some of the shock. “You didn’t, not at all, I just- I didn’t think- I—” She bites her lip. Music filters in from under the door to Jemma’s bedroom, which Sammi had pulled her into saying she ‘wanted to talk’. The song is one Jemma knows well. One she grew up listening to. But for the life of her she can’t place what it is, that’s how scrambled her head is. It’s a British Invasion band, she thinks. Maybe. The Rolling Stones? The Zombies? She doesn’t know. “I just didn’t think that … you know. That you … liked me. Like that.”

Sammi’s smile strikes Jemma as off. “Was my big gay ass not obvious enough about it?”

“I- I—” Jemma shakes her head, pinching her eyes shut briefly. “I’m just bad at this. _Really_ bad. At, I don’t know, all of it. At reading the signs. And I thought that maybe … That I like you so much, I was just projecting.”

The smile turns more genuine. “Yeah?”

A blush colors Jemma’s cheeks, and she nods. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” Sammi’s head bobs, pursing her lips as she thinks. “What was with the freezing up before, then? I thought I’d done something wrong.”

“You didn’t,” Jemma reassures her. “I just … I was surprised, I suppose, more than anything. And, well. I’ve never been kissed with that much- um … gusto, before.”

Sammi laughs, throwing her head back a little, and Jemma’s eye is caught by the curve of her throat. “Yeah, I can get a bit overzealous.”

“I just wasn’t prepared,” Jemma says, wringing her hands. “I’m great at preparation.”

“Okay.” Sammi bites her lip. “I’ll let you lead, then.”

“Oh.” Jemma’s sure the blush on her cheeks just went two shades darker. “Okay.”

“So, yeah, just—” Sammi shrugs. “Whenever you’re ready.”

For a moment they just stare at each other. Jemma can feel a mounting panic in the middle of her chest. Then she stops, takes a breath, reminds herself that she’s in charge, and takes Sammi’s hand. She leads her over to the bed and gently pushes her down into a sitting position. She watches Sammi’s throat move as she swallows.

Slowly, she moves one leg up on the bed next to Sammi’s, then the other, kneeling over her, and then sinks down onto her lap, hands still on Sammi’s shoulders. For a few seconds she doesn’t move, her eyes half lidded and staring down at Sammi’s mouth. Then Sammi’s tongue darts out to wet her lips, and that’s when Jemma moves.

Distantly, she hopes that Fitz doesn’t come barging in the room. Sometimes he forgets to knock, and when Jemma gets onto him about it he always apologizes, but he still does it. He’s probably thinking it’s odd that Jemma’s absent from her own birthday party. Or maybe he doesn’t, and he knows exactly what’s happening.

The thought flees her mind when she actually makes contact. It’s replaced by the wonder at how soft Sammi’s lips are, which she’d been too shocked to appreciate earlier. The few boys she’d kissed probably didn’t even know what chapstick was. Sammi’s is cherry.

Jemma heaves a contented sigh out her nose and then presses in harder. Neither of them really move, at first. Jemma figures Sammi is waiting for her to do something, doesn’t want to scare her off. Jemma just doesn’t want to mess up. It’s not like she’s being graded on this, sure (who is she kidding, she’ll grade it later), but, still. It’s important. This is a big moment.

Jemma pulls back just enough to reposition, gently pulling Sammi’s bottom lip into her mouth. Sammi doesn’t move, but Jemma can hear her breath catch.

(At least she remembered to close her eyes this time.)

Jemma sucks on Sammi’s lip, and Sammi tenses, then melts under her hands. She bites lightly, and then moves again, pressing her lips back against both of Sammi’s. Her tongue darts out to run along Sammi’s lips, and then move into her mouth as Sammi opens it.

Jemma feels how she normally feels about new things—that is, very curious, and very scientific. She knows Sammi had gotten a tooth pulled at one point, and she has to stop herself from counting Sammi’s teeth with her tongue to find out if it was on the top or bottom. Jemma explores, and as Sammi meets Jemma’s tongue with her own, Jemma thinks that this is a very interesting thing to be doing with a person. The whole ‘tongue-to-tongue’ thing. She wonders how long ago this started, evolutionarily speaking. She doesn’t think other greater apes do this. Fitz would know. He’d probably be embarrassed if she asked, but she’ll likely end up asking anyway. She wonders if there was some sort of benefit to it, the swapping spit. Maybe it was another way to gather information, back at the beginning, like scent was. She doesn’t know what information could be gathered through saliva. Maybe oral hygiene, which is an indicator of overall health. Or, possibly, it started just because people found it felt good. A lot of animals do things just because they feel good.

Sammi pulls back, and Jemma blinks her eyes open. Sammi’s mouth is in that odd little smile again.

“Why’d you stop?” Jemma asks.

“You weren’t moving.”

“Oh.” Jemma thinks back on it, and realizes that she hadn’t been. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just started thinking.”

Sammi chuckles. “Sounds like you.”

“Can I try again?” Jemma asks, a little sheepishly.

“It is your party. You don’t think you’ll be missed?”

“I think they can handle a few more minutes without me.”

“Then be my guest, birthday girl.”

So Jemma tries again. She thinks she’s better at it this time. She reckons she’ll improve with enough practice. And she thinks she’ll be getting a lot of practice.

Later, Jemma will rate the kiss a solid A- (she’s a hard grader. But she’ll get better).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wont be around tomorrow, so this is my last pride prompt of the month! i've enjoyed writing these so much, so big thank you to everyone who's kudosed, commented, or sent in prompts. happy pride!!


End file.
